


Oh My Baby, How Beautiful You Are (Completely Torn Apart)

by thegrimshapeofyoursmile



Category: Marvel
Genre: BDSM, F/M, Sub!Bucky, Whipping, dom!Natasha, slight breathplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-14
Updated: 2013-07-14
Packaged: 2017-12-20 05:21:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrimshapeofyoursmile/pseuds/thegrimshapeofyoursmile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Come here.”</p>
<p>He obeys. Gets on all fours and moves over to Natasha like a cougar on the prowl. ///Shameless PWP, Buckynat, enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh My Baby, How Beautiful You Are (Completely Torn Apart)

**Author's Note:**

> My first entry here and it is a PWP about Bucky and Natasha being in a BDSM-relationship, I wonder what that says about me. However, it was fun to think about what kind of sub Bucky would be and who would be a fitting Dom. Please take note that I have no personal experience with BDSM, though I have years of theoretical knowledge, I hope that will be enough to make the story good. Please also notice that my native language is not English, so there might be a few grammatical errors in this. Feel free to point them out to me, I will do my best to correct them as quickly as possible!  
> Enjoy!

“Come here.”

He obeys. Gets on all fours and moves over to Natasha like a cougar on the prowl. He can see her red lips twitch in amusement because he never bothered with getting the hang out of acting entirely submissive, but she doesn't say anything, just tangles a hand into his hair when he arrives at her feet and grabs them tightly enough that it hurts slightly. She wears black, loose pants and a bra, nothing else. She looks like a goddess with the way she sits. 

When she leans forward and closes the collar around his neck, he breathes in a little, nothing more, but of course Natasha notices.

"Good boy," She murmurs, the Russian words soft and cool on her lips. "What's your color?"

Sometimes he reacts badly to the collar, but today he is ready, so he looks her in the eyes and says, "Green." 

She nods and strokes his hair a while to make sure he is really okay, then she gets up and gets him up by grabbing the collar and hauling him up with surprising strength. He knows she could just put him on a leash and drag him away on it, but he is not here to be humiliated and she knows. Which is why she simply hooks one finger into the ring centered in the collar and moves him like that, eyes locked tightly into his. 

He makes a quiet noise when he realizes that she wants to put him on the St. Andrew's cross today and she grins at his reaction. Natasha's movements are slow and careful when she positions him with the front of his body against the cross and fastens his hands and feet. He is already half-hard, breathes in deeply and leans his forehead against the solid cross.

Natasha hums a little and moves her hands over his shoulder blades, digging her nails into his hips before grabbing them and pressing herself against his back, rewarding him with a sharp love bite in the nape of his neck right underneath the collar.

"What's your color, James?" She murmurs and he almost laughs because he is sure she can feel the way he tries to press back against her.

"Green."  
"Good boy. If you use your cybernetic arm to get free, I will stop the play," She says and presses her fingertips against the rigged line where the metal of his arm meets the flesh of his shoulder, grinning sharply against his neck when he moans a loud, "Yes."

"Perfect," She says and he can hear the smile in her voice. When she lets go of him entirely, he can't help but growl in displeasure, earning a firm smack on his ass. 

"Quiet," She says, her voice still calm and silky. "Or I'll have to gag you."

He makes a noise at that and she laughs huskily, digging her fingernails deeply into the place between his shoulder blades and dragging them down until she reaches his ass. He can feel the burn and the heat from her nails and moans again because it feels good. Her marks will not last long on him, but they feel good. 

He can hear her rummage around behind him and bites his lips to keep himself from asking what she is up to. He knows it will not be a whip. His muscles contract at the mere thought of the first and only time she tried a whip on him.

He shudders when she presses one palm against the scratches on his back, making them burn a little more. There is the slow caress of something firm, leathery against his ass and he sighs in anticipation because he recognizes a riding crop when he feels one.

"Color?"

"Green." He tries not to sound impatient.

"Good. Count for me."

He almost breaks free when he feels the first hit on his ass, his skin tingling with the sensation. "One."

Her first hits are gentle, preparing him for what is to come. He knows her too well and she is not exactly making a secret of her preferred pattern. Knowing makes him calmer too and she knows that as well.

He cries out at the first serious hit. He feels hot all over and has to clench his cybernetic arm into a tight fist to keep himself from breaking free. "Seven," He manages to say and Natasha hums in delight.

"You may come whenever you want," She murmurs and hits him again, fingertips gliding over his tender flesh and leaving burning trails when he gasps, "Eight." 

He presses his forehead against the cross and closes his eyes when he moans the next number. He feels feverish and light-headed; nothing exists in the time between the hits, only the anticipation for the next one. 

Natasha's next three strikes are quick and rapid across his back; she does not hold back and there is a lot of strength in her body. He cries out and pants loudly, gasping when Natasha hooks her fingers into the collar and yanks his head back on it. 

"Count, Yasha," She says and sounds breathless and beautiful. She strokes his temple while he gasps the numbers, humming when he finishes and letting go of the collar so he can breathe freely again. Her nails dig into the abused flesh of his ass, fingers slipping into the cleft between his cheeks. He bites the insides of his lips and makes a small noise when she lets go of him. His entire body sings when she strikes again across his entire backside. He can feel everything, the tremble in his legs, the blood rushing through his veins, the slight throb in his cock that is trapped between himself and the cross. Natasha plays with the edge of his collar while he breathes in deeply, coughs a little when she tugs at the collar. This is what he wants, he thinks, the feeling of falling and knowing he will not die when he hits the ground.   
“Let go,” She says softly and wraps her arms around his hips, closing one hand around his cock and squeezing. It almost hurts how hard she jerks him off and this is exactly what he needs to let go. It is not the thought of her cutting him open and bleeding him out until he is clean again that does him. What makes him come is the thought that she would never do it, even if he asked her to, because she takes care of him when he needs it, just like he takes care of her when she needs it, and she knows his limits better than he himself does. 

Natasha frees him from the binds that keep him, sinks down onto the ground with him and holds him when he starts shivering violently like he sometimes does after a session. He buries his face against her shoulder, ignoring the thin layer of sweat on her skin, and breathes in because there is nothing in his head, nothing that keeps him from feeling loose, almost as if he wasn’t connected to the body that throbs pleasantly with numb pain. He only feels Natasha’s fingers softly combing through his sweaty hair while she quietly hums a Russian song until he slowly stops shivering.

“Color?”

He smiles when he answers. “Green.”

“Good boy,” She says, her voice full of warmth. “Let’s go clean and patch you up.”

He lets himself get gently pulled up on his feet and follows her wherever she goes, just like he always does.


End file.
